


Zero to Sixty in Three Point Five

by cm (mumblemutter)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Community: kink_bingo, M/M, Plot What Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-28
Updated: 2011-07-28
Packaged: 2017-10-21 21:15:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/229920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mumblemutter/pseuds/cm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inebriation for beginners.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Zero to Sixty in Three Point Five

"You underestimate humanity, Erik. They might not fear us as much as you believe." Charles says this loud enough for several people to turn around and cast a curious glance in their direction.

"Charles," Erik says.

Charles turns, blinks unsteadily, then waves them away. "None of them will even remember us tomorrow morning."

"Are you making sure of that, then."

"No, alcohol is. It causes. It tends to." He quietens down, lips turned down in an unhappy little pout. "I forget."

"But we have nothing to worry about regardless."

"I'm not stupid, of course it'll take time," Charles says, glaring at Erik with all the power of a wounded, and slightly unfocused, kitten.

"Of course," Erik replies, bored of having this discussion again. He signals the waitress for another round of beers and when they arrive he pushes his bottle towards Charles as well.

It was Charles' idea to go back to this bar, because maybe, perhaps, the mutant who had told them to go fuck themselves might have a change of heart. Personally, Erik thought that go fuck yourself was a pretty definitive no, and it's only five drinks in that he realizes, possibly, Charles could tell if (a) the man was in fact open to discussion or (b) the man was in fact still in said bar. Which he wasn't. So it's just him, and Charles, getting wasted. Or Charles getting wasted and Erik sipping on his one bottle because someone has to take care of them and it's certainly not going to be Charles, not in this state anyway.

"I can too protect us," Charles splutters indignantly.

Erik throws some money onto the table. "Come on," he says. "It's time to go."

Charles is heavier than Erik expects. His body pressed against his as Erik leads him out of the pub is warm, mildly distracting. It's disturbing how easy this is, how often he allows Charles to smile winningly and go, "Listen, you know what would be a brilliant idea," and it's the earnestness that gets to him, really. Erik's not been around very many earnest people, and the ones he has, he'd left soon enough. There is an endgame, he tells himself firmly, as they reach the motel room and he deposits Charles, as gently as he can, onto the nearest bed.

But Charles is smiling up at him, and he looks suddenly remarkably less drunk than he did five minutes ago. "We have too many clothes on," Charles says, and Erik laughs, but it's true. He shrugs off his jacket, coat, shoes and socks. He's reaching for his belt but has to stop when Charles clumsily sits up, attempts to untie his shoelaces with the studied intensity of a small child.

"Oh for god's sake." He sits down on the edge of the bed and gently smacks Charles' wandering fingers away. He hasn't helped a man undress himself since, well. He hasn't.

"Thank you," Charles says quietly, as Erik slips off one shoe, then another. He tugs Charles' socks off, and can't help but circle his fingers, briefly, around an ankle. Charles responds by grabbing him by the hand, pulling him down until they're both tangled together in an ungainly heap on this too small bed.

"Allright, that's enough. You're drunk, Charles, and I'm." He can't move, apparently. And it's not just because he doesn't want to, either. "Charles," he says, and he starts to panic, too much of this and never again, but Charles' fingers are on his brow, and somehow he manages to calm down.

 _I'm sorry._ And just like that, Erik can move again. _I just wanted you to stay. Please, stay._

"I'm not going anywhere," Erik says, avoiding the underlying subject. Thinks instead, files away for future reference: Even drunk Charles can exert his power, seemingly without effort. It makes him wonder if the fingers to the temple are more an affectation than anything else. Or, even more disturbing, if he's unconsciously influencing thought just because he can't help himself.

"You think too much," Charles mutters reproachfully.

His eyes are incredibly blue, and incredibly open, and his hard-on, Erik realizes hazily, is pressed against Erik's thigh. "Kiss me. Erik. Please," he says suddenly.

Erik can't help himself. He's unsure if it's Charles or himself, but he can't even be bothered to care about that right now. _It's you._ Charles sounds as if he takes great offense even at the notion. _I would never do such a thi-_ Erik presses his knee harder against Charles' groin. He's unprepared for the shockwave of pleasure that rushes through his system, leaving him gasping. "It's a trick I learnt," Charles says, far too smug. "I'm amplifying the signals from the limbic system, specifically the -"

"So if I did," Erik says, shifting his knee so he can slide his hand down, wrap his fingers around Charles cock, "this." Charles sighs, a little open-mouthed moan, and shimmies into Erik's hand, but it's nothing compared to the reaction it has on Erik. When he can see straight again he says, only mildly disapproving, "Not fair. You're lowering my defenses."

"Oh," Charles replies, brow furrowed innocently. "Do you want me to stop?" and again Erik can't help it, has to kiss him again, open-mouthed hot wet is this what it's supposed to be like or is it just Charles, oh god, Charles, with his soft hands and red cheeks and his hackneyed sense of wrong and right and his stupid idealism and the way he looks at Erik as if - "You're beautiful," he says earnestly. "If only you could see yourself the way I see you." His expression slips into concentration.

"Don't," Erik whispers hoarsely. _Don't_ , and images flood his head, but they disappear just as fast: he wants to heave, curl in on himself and retch himself dry.

"I'm sorry," Charles says, the second time tonight.

"Are you like this with everyone you take to bed?"

"Only you," said with such stark honesty Erik once again is rendered unsteady, trembling with unease and anticipation, rolled up in one messy knot.

"Could we return to all that sexy talk about the limbic system," Erik says, only it comes out more like a plea. "I was enjoying that." He kisses Charles so that he won't apologize again, and also because he needs to. The heel of his palm, ground against the material of Charles' pants, and Erik feels every inch of it, spine snapped straight and toes literally curling. Charles is mumbling, but Erik ignores it, presses harder as Charles jerks against him, and - _Erik don't, I don't have enough clean_ \- but it's too late for that, Charles is coming, and all the synapses in Erik's head just snap, sugar bright, and maybe he comes too, he can't really tell, all he can do is hold on as Charles finishes his ride.

Afterwards, when Charles is asleep, seemingly uncaring about drifting away in clothes soiled in come and sweat, Erik takes a shower. Washes away everything, then takes a chair by the bed to wait. Charles sleeps like a baby, unburdened by worry, and more than once, he finds himself drifting forward, itching to push back a wayward curl or touch a smooth cheek. He must have fallen asleep at some point, because when he opens his eyes next Charles is staring at him. "You let me sleep in my clothes," he says, faint and accusing.

"I did," Erik replies. "Last night, that was a mistake."

Charles rolls over until he faces the ceiling. "Yes, you certainly seem to have strong feelings about that."

_Stay out of my head._

Charles says neutrally, "Of course," but there's a faint wave of pleasure that drifts out Erik's way.

_Smug bastard._

Charles laughs.

**Author's Note:**

> For the **drugs / aphrodisiacs** square.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Zero to Sixty in Three Point Five (with the 63 Special)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/819476) by [a_q](https://archiveofourown.org/users/a_q/pseuds/a_q)




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